


Old Testament Romance

by Stayontherooftop



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Implied Murder, Murder Wives, Oral Sex, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stayontherooftop/pseuds/Stayontherooftop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana and Margot fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Testament Romance

Alanna stretches luxuriously over the silken sheets, enjoying the feel of them against her skin. The small movement wakes Margot, who is curled against her, catlike.  
In the dark, Margot's sleepy voice murmurs, " Are you alright, my darling?." Alanna feels love swell up in her heart, and for a second she thanks whatever deity or turn of fate that led her to this moment, her arm tossed around Margot's naked, curled body, Margot loving her. " I'm fine, Margot." 

When she first woke up in the hospital, everything hurt. Streaks of pain course through her body every time she moved. Months of painful rehabilitation isolated the pain to her legs and back, and when she left the hospital she walked out on crutches and it stung but her face remained impassive.

When she had first woken up, she woke up crying. Not out of pain, but of grief. She grieved for Will before she knew if he lived or died, he was lost either way. She wept for Abigail, and Jack dying in the pantry. She wept for herself, her misplaced, naive, stupid trust. Her wish to see the best in people. For the gun she never fired outside of a range. Her shattered bones fixed themselves with casts and teams of doctors for help. Her heart beats on.

When she had lay dying on the sidewalk, she had wept out of heartache. But she learned to wake up dry eyed, and full of fury.  
Before she had encountered the Vergers face to face, before she had seen Margot, she woke up from dreams in which she, in a wheelchair ( though it had become obsolete for her long ago ) hunts down Hannibal in the empty streets of some European city and shoots him. Watches the blood blossom on his silk shirt. Watches as he dies. He didn't bother to watch her die, and here she is now. No, she will kill him, and watch as he takes his last breathe on the pavement from her wheelchair. 

Will Graham runs off to Europe to hunt down Hannibal, or to find him, to breathe in his air. Even he doesn't know the answer to what he intends to do when he finds him. She picks out the dress Bella will be buried in for Jack before he too heads to Florence. She should feel anger at them both; but she can feel nothing but pity. Will is ensnared by Hannibal, enamored, enchanted. Jack is enraged. They will continue to play their game of cat and mouse, in which she is nothing but a pawn. But she is a pawn no longer. She is out of the game entirely. They will drag, or lead, or lure him back to the U.S., where she'll be waiting, with a loaded gun. 

Margot is unexpected. She wasn't part of the plan. Her cheeks are ruddy from the wind as she greets Alana and leads her to Mason, her smile is well-painted but her eyes are icy blue and calculating as she takes in Alana. Alana knows only of her, of her brief entanglement with Will for the sake of a child, of what happened afterward. In the room with Mason, Alana can hear the wheels in Margot’s head turn, calculating as Margot introduces her to Mason in her velvet voice, can feel her age-old, burning anger as Mason dismisses her with something ugly and crude, can feel the revulsion that runs much more than skin deep for Mason pour out of her and out into the room like some dark poison. Margot is an enigma, but Alana understands anger. Can understand the need for Old Testament revenge. 

Mason bores her. She understands him, his ugly cruelty and crudeness, his simmering anger trapped behind smooth skin grafts and bedridden. She understands that it doesn't matter if she understands him or not. She can control him. 

Margot intercepts her as she leaves. She is enchanting. Her hair is the color of fine chocolate, and her teeth are pearls in her mouth.  
They strike a bargain within the lines of their sentences, a bargain without specifics, but a promise nonetheless. Margot smiles at her knowingly. What happens next is part of no bargain.

They're in the library. Alana leans against a mahogany bookshelf.  
“ Thank you for your time, Dr. Bloom.”  
“ The pleasure was mine, Ms. Verger.”  
Alana turns to walk away, when Margot’s voice cuts through the silence.  
“ I meant what I said earlier. About this being your entrance.”  
Alana turns around slowly. Margot’s face is cautious and beautiful, and her eyes are wary but understanding somehow. And suddenly, Alana can see Margot as a child. Hiding from Mason, from her father. Angry and powerless, abused and toyed with.  
Margot’s eyes flash, and she knows.  
“ I think,” Alana says softly, “ I would like that.”  
Their bodies don't collide as much as they softly fold into each other. Margot’s lips are impossibly soft, but her kiss is all teeth. Alana doesn't remember the last time she's felt so alive, the rush of blood singing in her ears.  
They're in Margot’s room somehow, and Margot has her smooth, cool hands under her untucked shirt, feeling her skin. Curving around her breast, cupping it. Delicately grasping a nipple between two fingers, and pinching. Not enough to hurt but enough to shock. Alana gasps into her mouth, her hands curved around Margot’s ass tightening. Margot's hands move lower, unbuttoning Alana’s pants as she bites her lips and slides her tongue into her mouth.  
Cool hands slide between her legs, an exploring touch, feeling the wetness there. Alana tenses at the touch and shivers, as Margot’s finger find her clit and began a slow, steady rhythm.  
“ You're very wet for me, Dr. Bloom.” Margot murmurs, her mouth centimeters away from Alana’s ear, the warmth of her breath causing Alana to shiver.  
“ I think, Ms. Verger-” She gasps as Margot slides two finger inside of her, and begins to curl them, “ Under the circumstances, you can call me Alana.”  
She feels Margot smile against her neck.

 

Two weeks later in Alana’s home, and Alana is kneeled between Margot’s legs, despite Margot’s protests about her legs. The smell and taste of Margot surrounds her. Alana laps, her tongue strong and steady against Margot’s clit, sucking. She takes in the heady wet salt-sourness of her taste, her Margotness. Margot’s hands are fisted into her hair, and she's making these noises, these breathy little whimper gasps. Alana is aching as well between her legs, needing to come.  
“ Make me come, Alana. Make me come make me come-” Alana increases her speed. Margot wouldn't. She would look up from between her legs, and twist and tease her tongue between her light, rapid catlike licks. Alana is enamoured with it, with anything she does. Margot’s face twists into pure pleasure and she cries out, thrusting her hips hard into Alana’s lips, and Alana hungrily mouths at her.  
Finally, she releases her grip on Alana’s hair, panting heavily, and the way she looks at Alana is fierce pride and adoration, a word that whenever thinks of in the context of Margot she feels warm inside, the kind of warmth she hasn't felt since before Hannibal. Margot pulls her up, hungrily but carefully, with consideration Alana’s aching joints, and messily kisses her. It is the only messy thing Margot does, and only after this. Alana relishes it.  
“ You're still so hungry, Margot. My hungry girl.” Alana whispers lovingly into her ear. Margot kisses her collarbone, pressing their breasts together. Alana can feel Margot’s still hard nipples against her own, the creamy smooth skin. Every brush with Margot feels like sunlight against her skin on a chilly day. No, that's not right. It's moonlight, but the kind that burns. Margot's fingers are pressing their way past her dripping wetness and into her, crooking. Alana moans low in her throat as Margot’s fingers move quickly, fucking her raw, filling her up with an intensity. Margot’s hands are skilled and Alana needs to come so badly  
“ Shit.” Alana gasps, as Margot finds that spot inside her and presses into it again and again.  
“ Fuck !” She exclaims, on the edge, and Margot laughs and leans forward to murmur into her ear, “ Language, Dr. Bloom.”  
That's all it takes for Alana to come hard around Margot’s fingers.

They wrap themselves in Alana’s afghans and quilts, sweaty bodies entangled in the cool of the household. Margot rises her head, her hair like silk in the gray afternoon.  
“ Can I tell you something ?”  
“ You can tell me whatever you want.” Alana says softly.  
“ I went to a therapist yesterday. Somebody.. New. Unconnected. Didn't know who I was, even. I had a fake name. Paid in cash. I told her a fairytale. I told her I had a brother and a father that abused me growing up. I told her I woke up to nightmares of the press of their fingers on my throat, the sound of my brother lighting matches to burn against my skin, my brother holding me down as he unzipped his pants.” Alana can hear her swallow, can hear the flutter of her heart. “ I told her my brother had trapped me into financial dependence on him, and that I had to live in the same house still. That he did everything to restrict my freedom. I asked her what I should do, and she told me I should forgive him.”  
Silence.  
“ She told me that I needed to forgive myself so I could move on and create a better situation for myself, and that the only way to do that was to forgive my brother. She said, that it was the only way to heal. ” The last word is said with derision.  
Margot’s voice is composed and cool, but Alana can hear the hysteria in her breath.  
“ I heard what you said, about Old Testament revenge. I know you want him dead, or suffering and in your power at the very least. I don't have illusions about my moral state either. I couldn't grow up being fed poison and living without becoming poisonous. It's kept me alive. I saw you, and I know you understood. But I see your… Your wholesomeness. It's there, surrounded by the edges of a razor. I love you like that.” She says it like it surprises her.  
Alana strokes her hair gently, touches the soft roundness of her cheeks.  
“ I want to know what you think. About healing. I'll need to kill him. I need to do it to live. But I don't know about afterwards. I don't know how I'll live, in that house with my brother and my father’s stains underneath the carpet and on my skin. I don't think I have your wholesomeness. I don't think I could ever have it, even if I didn't have Mason for a brother. I didn't think about forgiveness until the woman said it. I suppose I won't be free until I do it. It makes sense that way, that even after they're dead, I’ll owe them something. “ Her voice is cool and bitter in the gray of the room.  
Alana is silent, her lips pressed against the tan of Margot’s skin. Finally, she says,  
“ Kindness got me thrown out of a window.”  
“ Your kindness is what made me fall in love with you. Even under the razors. Especially, with the razors. “  
Alana ponders this. “ You're in love with me.”  
“ I think so.” Her voice is smooth and reverent, and it makes Alana’s heart swell. She leans over and kisses Margot, tastes her and inhales her perfume as Margot licks into her mouth.  
They break away. Finally, Alana says, “ You want to know what I think about healing. I think that sometimes you need to spill blood to do it. “  
Margot kisses her again, softer this time, like the brush of a moth’s wing.

For her birthday, Alana comes home to find Margot in her kitchen dressed in a loose t-shirt and jeans, pulling a smoking pie out of the oven and swearing, the entire kitchen counter covered in a light dusting of flour.  
Margot gives her a standoffish smile, and pulls off her oven mitts. “ I think you mentioned you liked pie once. I'm afraid I'm not very domestic.”  
Alana leans in and kisses her fiercely.  
When she pulls away, there’s a little pleased smile across Margot’s face.  
“ It's perfect. You're perfect.” She murmurs into the curve of Margot’s neck, her hands slipping under Margot’s t-shirt.  
Margot smiles and pulls away. “ Eat your pie first.”  
“ Then I'll eat your pie?”  
Margot laughs. “ What a lewd sense of humor you have, Dr. Bloom.” She says teasingly. “ But I think today it'll be the other way around.” 

The pie is good and hot, even though the crust is a little burned. Margot scoops fancy vanilla gelato in copious amount onto her tiny slice of pie.  
“ I haven't seen you wear something like this before.” Says Alana, eying her outfit.  
“ It would be out of character, I think.” Margot replies. “ I wasn't encouraged laxness as a child. I don't think I have the disposition for it now.”  
Alana takes in the baggy t-shirt in soft navy blue. It looks unusual on her, out of place, but not bad. Alana doesn't think Margot could look bad in anything, to be honest. Maybe she should try it out. Put Margot in a chicken suit.  
She smiles at the thought of it.  
“ What are you smiling about ?”  
“ I'm thinking about you in a chicken suit. You look good in this. I don't believe that there's anything you don't look good in."  
Margot smiles, sharp teeth showing. “ Maybe for your next birthday.”

Margot’s kisses taste like vanilla gelato as she presses Alana into the edge of her counter, allowing Alana to lean against her, before unbuttoning Alana’s blouse, kissing down to her breasts. She reaches around to unhook her bra before taking Alana’s nipple into her mouth. Alana groans as she teases at it with her tongue, before going lower. Soon Alana’s skirt is on the floor and her panties are pulled down to the top of her sticky thighs, and Margot is licking at her. Margot looks up at her as she flicks her clit with her tounge, Alana’s hands gripped in her hair as she gasps for air. It doesn't take her long to come.  
After that, Margot helps her into the bedroom and puts on a strap on, and helps Alana clamber on top into a comfortable position despite her protests that it was Alana’s birthday, and that she shouldn't have to do all the work. Alana cries out as she slides down onto the silicone, it's thick length inching deeper and deeper into her until she is full. They do this every once in a while. Alana prefers to take it. She would never psychoanalyze Margot, but she is her girlfriend, and Alana tries to understand. She does, with surprising ease, and knows that that type of penetration hasn't  
been a pleasurable experience in the past.

It doesn't take long for Margot to thrust into Alana with quick, rough little movements as Alana, all inhibitions gone, fucks herself hard on the strap on, stopping only to grind her hips. She’s hitting that little spot of pleasure every time, dripping all over the strap on. Alana’s wet pants and broken moans verging on sobs of pleasure fill the room.  
“ You look so beautiful, darling.” Margot whispers, the speed of her thrusts picking up, causing Alana to grind down with pleasure and groan. “ You should see yourself.” Margot, Alana observes, isn't a bad sight either. Her hair pools out beneath her head, and she's wearing some sort of dark, lacy, sheer panties and bra. The panties and what’s underneath are hidden by the strap on currently fucking Alana, but Alana has a clear view of Margot’s hard reddish-brown nipples as well as the shine in her eyes, the rosiness of her cheeks, and her slightly agape mouth. She's enjoying it, not physically perhaps, but the act of it is compelling. The domination of Alana, making Alana fuck herself on the strap-on for pleasure clearly has an effect for her. The realization of this comes just as Margot reaches up to stroke her clit in a quick, steady motion, and Alana comes hard.   
After a few moments of panting, Alana slides off, and unbuckled the strap on. Underneath, Margot’s pussy is red and dripping. She hisses as Alana rubs her with her cool hands, and tenderly strokes at the clit. “ You liked fucking me, didn't you.” Alana whispers. “ You liked me riding your cock. Well, I liked it too.” Margot comes with a shudder instantly. They don't bother to clean up before curling up in bed.  
“ I love you,” Alana murmurs.  
Margot kisses her on her forehead. “ I love you, too. Happy Birthday, darling.”

Margot’s birthday comes up pretty soon after that. Alana contemplates on what to get her for hours. The pie and the sex wasn't Alana’s only gift; Margot gave her a necklace in graceful silver with a swan on it, as well as first edition copies and collections of Flannery O’Connor, Alice Walker, and Maya Angelou.  
Finally, Alana decides on making a reservation at a fancy seafood restaurant, recalling Margot’s distaste for pork.  
“ There's a bad joke to be made there.” Margot says, eyes twinkling as she looks up from an info card of the restaurant. “ The two of us, going off into the night to eat fish and oysters.”  
Alana laughs.  
“ I think my lewdness has rubbed off on you.”  
“ I've always been lewd. You just bring it out more.”  
She looks beautiful tonight, with her hair in a sharp bun, dressed in tight black dress pants and a blazer over a pearly silk blouse. Alana’s heart aches to look at her.  
In the middle of the bouillabaisse, Margot is presented with her gifts. She opens the wide box carefully mix, and looks down at the contents. When she looks up, her face is a apprehensive and wary as the first time Alana saw her.  
“ Is this-”  
“ Yes.”  
Margot carefully places the lid back on the box, slides it to the edge of the table, and throws herself at Alana. Her mouth is hard and fierce against Alana’s. There is no teasing, just the sweetness of her breath and the clash of teeth and tongue. When they break away, Margot’s hair is unruly be her lipstick is smeared. Alana is out of breath.  
“ It's no apple pie, but I do think that's a sign you liked it. “ Alana says, beaming.  
She doesn't remember the last time she beamed.  
Margot looks at her, dazed but enraptured.  
“ I don't think we’ll make it home.”  
They leave for the bathroom, leaving behind some cooling bouillabaisse, and a box containing a pair of fine leather riding gloves lined with cashmere, a practical looking pair of gloves with a small tag attached to it reading waterproof, and two small fuzzy woolen mitts in blue, clearly made for an infant boy.

They walk out of the house, drenched in water and sweat. Margot pauses, breathing hard.  
“ I'll be out soon.” She says. “ But I need to make sure everything is in its place before I go.”  
Mason's body lies in the room they just left. Alana nods. “ Do what you need to do.”, she says gently.  
They part there. And suddenly, there is a gun pointed at Alana’s chest.  
“ Freeze.” Says the bodyguard. Alana looks at him. He's one of Mason’s hires, the kind of bodyguard that nobody short of unpopular dictators comes by, and certainly not legally. Alana’s heart is pounding hard, but it feels distant. All she feels is sorrow. For letting Margot down, in a way that she had no control over. Suddenly the man reels back, a slender pair of arms in a tight grip around his neck, and a pair of heels digging into his crotch. He topples, and Margot lithely pins him down, knee digging into his sternum, theknife in her hand pointed directly at his neck.  
“ Here's what's going to happen.” She says coolly. “ Tomorrow, I'm going to wire a large amount of money into your bank account. You'll leave the country. You won't speak of this ever again, because you value your career and your life and your freedom. I know who you used to work for, and who he hired you from. I can end your life.”  
The man stares up at her unflinchingly, then slowly nods. Margot gets off of him, and both of them watch him go.  
Margot turns around. Her eyes glisten and burn, and she looks at Alana with fierce adoration and concern. “ Are you alright?”  
Alana nods, and goes up to her and hugs her tightly. Margot tenses, and then relaxes. Alana can feel her trembling as she grips Alana tightly.  
For a while, they just stand there.

Pregnancy is strange, and more beautiful than Alana could've expected. Margot dotes on her, satisfying her weird cravings with late night trips to the grocery store for pickles and birthday cake flavored icecream, as well as ordering fancy gift baskets full of caviar and expensive cheeses.  
She goes into labor with Margot holding one hand, and her mother holding the other. Her father anxiously paces outside the door.  
The first time she holds him, she is crying. She has never seen something so perfect.  
He has her dark hair, and Margot’s round cheeks, apparently a genetic Verger trait.. Margot has crawled next to her in the bed, and she is looking at him with breathless wonder. When she looks up, Alana sees the tears running down her face.  
“ What should we name him?” Alana asks, hushed as he looks up at them curiously.  
There is silence as Margot gently strokes the face of their son with one finger, as if he was something so delicate and beautiful she could hardly bear to touch him. “ We should name him after your father. “ Margot says, finally. “ Thomas.”  
Alana smiles. “ Thomas. I like it.”  
They look down at their future, and see that it is more beautiful than ever.

Alana wakes up in the middle of the night to a phone call saying that Hannibal has been captured.  
As his captor, she observes him and feels that great rush of cold anger come back. The dreams about her limping through the streets with a gun return, as well as the nightmares of her falling out the window. Margot sleeps uneasily as well, crying in her sleep. They spend hours in Thomas’s room at night instead of sleeping, cradling him and talking quietly when he sleeps. Their new staff is plentiful, but Alana and Margot choose not to delegate their duties to someone else when they can help it. 

In the midst of the Red Dragon, Hannibal tells her she owes her wife and child to him. She spends long nights thinking about this, and knows it's a threat. His prison cell is going to be empty soon. The power Alana had over him will be soon gone, and what little pleasure she derived from it. But in the danger, she senses opportunity. A lack of government supervision is a chance for her own brand of vengeance.  
But Margot and Thomas linger in her mind. Their danger is apparent. It is a conundrum of vengeance over love. 

Packing doesn't take long, and Alana walks out the door, hand in hand with Thomas, Margot on his other side. She doesn't look back at the house, or at Virginia as they are driven away. Her heart thumps in her chest. Her decision has been made. Her wife and child’s life is worth more than the spilling of blood. She looks to Margot and smiles, knowing that they are safe. Hannibal’s debt is repaid. She gives him his life and freedom for her wife and child’s.


End file.
